The darkness tightened, folding inward like invisible walls closing around them.
Anaya felt the corridor listening.
Not hunting anymore.
Choosing.
Ishika stopped in front of her.
"The corridor feeds on three things," she said.
"Fear. Attention. And abandonment."
The names floated closer, whispering without sound.
"When people forget, it grows," Ishika continued.
"When someone remembers, it rests."
Anaya swallowed.
"So what do you want from me?"
Ishika lifted her hand and pressed it gently against Anaya's chest.
"Stay."
The word landed heavy.
"If no one holds the memory, the corridor spreads," Ishika said.
"It moves to hospitals. Apartments. Schools. Anywhere loneliness lives."
Anaya's mind raced. Her mother's face. Her unfinished dreams. The normal life she thought waited outside these walls.
"You want me to die here," Anaya whispered.
"No," Ishika replied.
"I want you to live here."
The difference felt worse.
Anaya laughed weakly, tears streaming.
"Become a ghost?"
"Become a lock," Ishika corrected.
The corridor shuddered, impatient.
"If you leave," Ishika said softly,
"someone else will be erased tomorrow."
Anaya remembered Kavya's hand slipping.
Riya screaming.
Meera disappearing without a sound.
Her chest hurt.
She closed her eyes.
"Then I won't leave," she said.
The darkness exhaled.